HP: TNG
by loubug14
Summary: One-shots, ficlets, and drabbles about the next generation of Hogwarts students. Recent posts: An Honest Mistake (Lucy Weasley, Harry Potter), Everything Changes (Rose Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy)
1. Like Father, Like Son

Title: Like Father, Like Son  
Characters: Teddy Lupin, Victoire Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Charlie Weasley  
Challenge/Forum: QFLC Season 5 - Round 3 (Ballycat Bats, Beater 2)  
Prompt: Write about a Truth that is found out by the next generation OR write about a Dare that is carried out by the next generation.  
Opt-Prompt: (emotion) regret, (dialogue) "Can we please turn back time and go back to how things used to be?", (food) cantaloupe  
Warnings: Infidelity  
(Glorious) Betas: queen-sheep  
Word Count: 2,493

* * *

When Teddy Lupin graduated from Hogwarts, Harry attempted to recruit him for the Auror program. "Your mum was a great Auror," Harry told him, "and you've certainly got your dad's skills in defense." But Teddy had always found himself captivated by the careers of his two oldest uncles.

Bill Weasley still travelled for Gringotts, curse-breaking all around the world. He visited Egypt frequently—the goblins had a permanent encampment there due to the high volume of magical tombs—but his best stories came from the ancient temples of Sumer in southern Iraq. The Ziggaruts were as old as the tombs in Egypt, but the wards protecting them were the most complicated Bill had ever seen. His eyes glowed as he talked about uncovering his first purification pond, still pristine even after thousands of years underground.

"It's the most virile magic I've ever encountered," Bill told him, eyes bright with the memory. "It's magic you can feel."

But if Bill Weasley appealed to Teddy's intellectual side, Charlie Weasley appealed to something deep in his bones.

Charlie, who had long left the dragon pen for an administrative office on the Romanian reserve, had what seemed to be an unending litany of stories about his days as a dragon wrangler. The best stories came with an accompanying scar or tattoo.

"This one," Charlie said, pointing to a magical tattoo of a rose, "covers the first bite I ever got from a baby. Chinese Fireball hatchling, barely a week old. They look cute, but those suckers are vicious!"

"Oh that?" Charlie asked at a different family gathering, pointing to a mermaid on his left shoulder. "That's from a burn from Pearl. She's our oldest Opaleye, and she wasn't too happy when I was cleaning out her pen near breeding time. Got me right on the shoulder, and I couldn't lift anything for a week straight."

Once, during a particularly hot day at the Burrow, when almost the entire family had made their way to the pond to swim, Teddy spotted a small tattoo of a jackrabbit on Charlie's chest.

"What's the story behind that one, Uncle Charlie?" he asked warmly.

An emotion Teddy couldn't quite pinpoint flashed through the redhead's eyes, but quickly faded to the genial grin the dragon wrangler always had.

"That? That's a reminder that dragons aren't the only things that can burn you."

No one but Harry was surprised when Teddy applied to both the dragon reserve and as an apprentice curse-breaker, but not to the Auror program.

* * *

The Saturday before Teddy started work, Molly threw a joint birthday celebration for Harry and Ginny at the Burrow. The Potters had requested the party be subdued—just family and some close friends, which typically meant the Longbottoms would make an appearance, along with the Scamanders if they were in England.

Teddy loved family gatherings. The grandkids ran amok—missing only Molly and Lucy, who were stationed in Canada with their father on diplomatic appointment. Molly always made too many desserts, which always included treacle tart. There was invariably a toast to the missing family members—usually Charlie and Percy, but always Fred—and when he'd had a few butterbeers he was often goaded into doing metamorphmagus tricks.

Meals at the Burrow were an exercise in chaos, but they reminded Teddy that he really, truly had a family.

Though, with his intimate position with Victoire on the swing, he was glad he wasn't blood related. The two oldest grandkids had escaped the dramatics of the younger teens and the stern eye of Victoire's dad, and were enjoying their meal in quiet togetherness, her thin legs perpendicular over his own.

They had only been dating a year, but after spending their entire childhood together, they functioned more like an old married couple. Victoire grabbed an extra set of silverware and napkins, since Teddy always forgot his, and he gave her the strawberries from his fruit salad and took her cantaloupe, which she loathed. He always had a jacket with him, because she always underdressed and ended up cold—even in the middle of summer.

After they finished their cake, Victoire leaned her head on Teddy's shoulder. "This is perfect."

He threw his arm around her, drawing her close, and kissed her forehead. "Yeah, it really is."

* * *

The goblins were fastidious about security, so when Teddy started his job the following Monday, he went through a battery of tests.

First was Veritaserum, under which he admitted to smoking weed with Jameson Wood and Max Flint after a Quidditch game seventh year. Then came the employment contract, which he signed with a blood quill—Harry had _not_ been happy to hear about that.

Once the contract was signed, a Goblin healer started on the standard health assessments. It was during these tests that the bomb had been dropped, changing Teddy's entire life.

The goblin healer had scowled at his blood test. "I thought you said your father was Remus Lupin?"

"He was," Teddy responded shortly.

"Lies!" hissed the goblin. "Remus Lupin was a known werewolf. You show no traces of lycanthropy."

Teddy rolled his eyes. Aunt Hermione had warned him that his father's affliction would likely come up over his lifetime. "Lycanthropy can't be passed on from parent to child," Teddy explained. "I would have to be bitten to be a werewolf."

"Stupid boy," said the goblin, taking a set of hair samples to have on file. "Of course you have to be bitten to be a werewolf. But if Remus Lupin was your father, you would have latent lycanthropic genetic material evident in your bloodstream. You do not."

Teddy was silent. He had never displayed any of the traits of latent lycanthropy; Aunt Hermione had theorized that his metamorphmagus abilities negated those drives—the increased sex drive and energy near the full moon, heightened senses, etc—since he generally used more energy than other magicals.

The goblin continued. "While I cannot tell you _who_ your father is, I can tell you with certainty that it is _not_ Remus Lupin."

* * *

Teddy thought about confiding in Harry, but ultimately decided against it; it was Remus, after all, who had asked Harry to be godfather, and Teddy didn't want to jeopardize his position as a surrogate member of the Potter family.

Not that he thought Harry would disown him. Things would just be… different.

He thought about telling Aunt Hermione, because she was the smartest person he knew and would be able to tell him what to do next, but he decided against that as well; he knew she would ultimately reveal his secret to Harry.

When he thought about it, he realized anyone he could confide in—Hermione, Victoire, Bill, Charlie, James—was connected to his godfather.

So Teddy kept it inside.

But that didn't stop the speculation.

Was his father alive? Or had he been killed in the war, like Remus? His mother's mentor had been Mad-Eye Moody, the senior Auror who had been killed in the Battle of the Seven Potters. His death had occurred only days before his supposed conception, right after Bill and Fleur's wedding. Was there more to their relationship than mentorship?

He knew his mother had also been close with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister for Magic. They had been Aurors together, even during the Ministry's occupation by Voldemort, and Kingsley had regaled Teddy with a number of stories about his Order missions with Tonks. The Minister always smiled fondly when he talked about her.

But it wasn't until Christmas, when Uncle Charlie came home and showed the inquiring nieces and nephews a photo album from his old Hogwarts days—an album filled with an inordinate amount of pictures of Charlie and his mother—that Teddy _knew_.

He saw the way Charlie stared at his mum in her Yule Ball dress. Or the way she hugged him after he won the Quidditch Cup. Or how they let their touches linger just a fraction too long. Or the emotion between them when they caught each other's eye.

If he wasn't really a Lupin, then he had to be a Weasley.

* * *

Teddy became withdrawn. He hadn't confirmed that Charlie Weasley was his father—and with Charlie back in Romania, he didn't have the means to—but he knew it in his soul.

Which meant that Victoire was his cousin. His _first_ cousin.

He avoided her for a month before she showed up at his flat, tears running down her face.

"What is happening, Teddy?" she asked between sniffles. "What is going on with you?"

He sighed, defeated. "Things are changing, Vic. I'm changing." He swallowed. "And I think we should stop seeing each other."

The blonde witch broke down in tears.

"Why, Teddy?" she asked between sobs. "Just tell me why?"

He swallowed. "Because I don't love you anymore, Vic. I'm sorry."

A lie. Both lies. He did love her—he was sure he always would—but he was not sorry to break things off with her. He had to. It was only right.

* * *

Teddy quit Gringotts a month later, and was in Romania by the summer. He shoveled dragon dung and went through too much burn paste and drank too much firewhisky at the pub with the other wranglers. He got to know Charlie as a colleague, rather than as an uncle, and discovered a striking number of similarities they shared. Most could be chalked up to coincidence or nurturing—they had both been raised by (or practically by) Molly Weasley—but Teddy knew they ran deeper than that.

One night, at the village pub, after a long day of dealing with a stroppy, pregnant Ironbelly, Teddy asked Charlie about his mother.

"I know you were friends at Hogwarts," Teddy said, sliding another firewhisky toward the redhead. "I'm sure you have some stories I've never heard. Some that wouldn't have been appropriate when I was younger." He smiled.

Teddy thought this line would bring out the old glory days for Charlie. He sometimes got like that, with the younger wranglers—reliving the days of being in the pen, telling the same stories of his scars that he'd told to a younger Teddy.

But this question made Charlie falter, and his mouth turned downward in a slight frown. "Your mum was… was beyond reproach, Ted. Sure, we got up to some mischief at Hogwarts but after that? She was a paragon of virtue."

Perhaps it was because Charlie was on his fourth glass, but the redhead couldn't quite hide the scorn from his last sentence.

Teddy sipped his whisky. "She couldn't have been perfect."

The scorn morphed to something sadder, almost mournful. "She was though, Teddy. Merlin your mum was just—the brightest, most fantastic witch I've ever met. She had this way of putting anyone at ease. I'm better at dealing with dragons than people—don't have the patience for most of 'em—but your mum was the one person who I could really let loose with. She never had a bad word to say 'bout anyone."

Teddy sat. Sipped. Waited.

"There was a time I fancied myself in love with her. We dated a bit, before I left for the reserve. I never told you that and not too many people knew, but we did." He shot back the rest of his whisky. "I think she thought it was casual, but… well, it wasn't, not for me. Biggest regret I ever had was leaving for Romania and not telling her how I really felt."

Teddy nodded solemnly, staring at his glass. He had imagined he was the result of a drunken one-night stand, not some unrequited lost love. When he looked up, Charlie was staring at him, with an odd look in his eye.

"Of course, by the time I realized what a mistake I'd made… well." Charlie pushed his glass to the bartender, nodding for another drink. "Your father was a good man, Teddy. Dora deserved someone like him, someone who could love her the way she deserved."

Charlie shook himself out of his morose mood and punched Teddy jovially on the shoulder.

"Plus, without Remus, I wouldn't have your lazy ass to boss around all day."

* * *

Christmas at the Burrow was the same as always. But now, family gatherings felt different.

There were the disappointed looks from Bill, Fleur and their kids—except for Victoire, who alternated between avoiding and staring longingly at Teddy. There was the constant badgering of Harry—"whenever you want to come home, I've got a spot for you on the team," he'd explain, still trying to recruit the metamorphmagus for the Aurors. There were the constant inquiries from the younger kids about his job with dragons, and was he dating anyone?

And under all of this ran the constant reminder that his relationship with everyone—with his family—was both more real and less real than it had been the Christmas before. They were blood now, but more than six months distance meant he missed out on the small developments, the new inside jokes, the day-to-day updates that built the close bond he'd always thought made him part of the family.

He was cornered by Victoire later in the evening, after everyone was dozing in a pudding-induced coma.

"I miss you, Teddy," she smiled at him, unshed tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Vic," he protested. He tried to keep his voice sweet, but he put a bit more distance between him and the witch. The tears threatened to spill forth.

"I don't understand what happened," she exclaimed. "You just decide you don't love me anymore and then run off to Romania?" She moved forward, pressing against him, taking him in her arms. "You could come home. You could join the Aurors. We could be together, just like we always dreamed." She hugged him tight. "Can we please turn back time and go back to how things used to be?"

And then Teddy saw it: his mother in her lavender dress at Bill and Fleur's wedding, with her hair to match; Remus, off on patrol for the Order, making sure the Burrow's wards held; Charlie, laughing with his mother and reminiscing on old times; the champagne flowing; a dark corner, where Charlie confessed his lingering feelings for Dora, revealing the regret that had dogged him for years; a liquor-induced seduction—"Can we please turn back time and go back to how things used to be?"— and the subsequent nostalgia-filled shag in one of the hidden spaces of the Burrow that only a Weasley would know; and then the fall of the wards, the fear of the guests, the relief and remorse and guilt that filled his mum when Remus returned.

The relief she would have felt when Teddy arrived with the blue hair of a metamorphmagus, rather than the bright red hair of a Weasley.

Teddy pushed Victoire away. "No."


	2. A Study Break

Title: A Study Break  
Characters/Pairings: Rose Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Weasley  
Forum/Challenge: The Golden Snitch 'Light it Up Like the Fourth' challenge (Mahoutokoro, House Mizu)  
Prompt: (word) parade  
World: Next-Generation  
Word Count: 617

* * *

"…and so we can see that the accent on _Ingwaz_ effects the translation how?" Rose looked at Scorpius.

He stared back at her without answering. Rose got the feeling he wasn't really listening.

"Scorpius? Scorpius!"

The blond shook his head. "I'm sorry, you were saying."

Albus chuckled to himself.

Rose huffed. "Look, if you're not going to take this seriously, you should just go." Scorpius's face grew red and became increasingly redder as she continued. "You're wasting my time and Albus's time and it's not fair that we have to slow our studying for you, especially if you're not going to pay attention…"

"Well, what do you expect when you parade around looking the way you do!" he finally yelled.

Rose glanced down at the old, tattered jumper she had stolen from her father and her jeans, which hung just a bit loose on her frame. Her auburn curls were thrown haphazardly in a pony tail and she had yet to put on any make up.

"Just what is wrong with the way I look, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy?" When she said his full name, her voice dropped, and Albus's eyes went big. That was the voice Aunt Hermione used when they were in _big trouble_.

Scorpius threw up his hands in frustration. "Like _that_! Effortlessly beautiful! How am I supposed to focus on my OWLs when you look like a damn siren wearing a tattered old Weasley sweater? All I can think about is that stupid curl that's hanging by your ear and how much I want to push it away and snog you bloody senseless! You can't yell at me for being distracted because it's _all your fault_!" His chest heaved from his outburst, and a blush slowly crept up his cheeks.

There was a moment of silence before Scorpius gathered his books in a quick sweep. "I'll just go study in the common room. Maybe I'll get some work done there."

Rose watched the open door of the abandon classroom long after Scorpius had disappeared.

"Well?" Albus said.

Rose turned to look at him. He was immersed in his book, as if nothing had happened.

"Well what?" she demanded.

"Well, are you going to stand there gaping like a fish or are you going to go after him?"

Rose looked at her cousin for just a moment more, and then she shot off toward the dungeons.

She overtook Scorpius on the east staircase. "Scorpius!" she cried, grabbing his arm.

He stopped, but he didn't turn to face her; he just stared at the ground in front of him.

"Just leave me alone, Rose," he said softly. "I'm quite aware that you barely tolerate me, and only because Albus insists, so I imagine you want to keep my embarrassing little outburst between the three of us." He shrugged off her hand. "Not a problem. It's not as if I need another reason for people to make fun of me."

He tried to keep walking, but Rose reach out again, more forcefully, and turned him to her.

He looked up.

She dropped her bag and flung herself at him. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth unmoving against hers.

But only for a moment. He admitted he never _thought_ this would happen, but he was a Slytherin and he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by. He circled his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, and his tongue tentatively pressed forward to explore her mouth.

After a moment, they pulled apart, breathing heavy.

Scorpius's eyes were wide. Rose grinned at him. "I think we've earned a study break, don't you?"


	3. Growing Up

Title: Growing Up  
Characters/Pairings: Rose Weasley, Ron Weasley  
Forum/Challenge: The Golden Snitch's 'Light It Up Like the Fourth' challenge (Mahoutokoro, House Mizu)  
Prompt: (word) independence  
World: Next-gen  
Word Count: 478

* * *

"Rose?" a soft voice called from the hall.

Rose huffed and turned her back to the door. She wrapped her left arm around her waist and used her right one to wipe away her lingering tears.

She heard her door creak open.

"Go away," she mumbled.

"Rose," Ron said, his voice tight, "I'm sorry."

She froze. That was _not_ what she had been expecting. She'd thought it would be _Mum_ coming to her room, not Dad. Mum was the reasonable one, the one that played peace keeper after all the Weasleys—usually Rose and her dad—let their famous tempers fly. Hugo had always been quieter, more reserved and bookish.

Rose really hated how their family genetic lottery had played out. She got the worst of both worlds: the hair _and_ the temper.

She sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

"You didn't deserve… you didn't deserve any of what I said downstairs, and I'm sorry for all of it."

* * *

Ron sat down on the edge of his daughter's bed. The bed was covered in the quilt his mother had made for Rose's tenth birthday, and Puff the stuffed dragon—a gift from Uncle Charlie—was thrown haphazardly on her pillow.

Everything about this room screamed "little girl" to him. Puff, the quilt, the pile of young adult books underneath the nightstand—even the purple walls, which she'd _begged_ him to charm for her when she was twelve.

At least they weren't her house colors. He knew she didn't get her Hufflepuff tendencies for him.

The only joy he took from the sorting that year was that Malfoy's kid had also ended up in Hufflepuff.

Which brought them back to the issue at hand.

* * *

A father looked at the floor; a daughter looked at the wall.

"You came home this summer and you weren't my little girl anymore; you were this incredible young woman who took eight NEWTS on top of being Head Girl and Quidditch captain. I can't tell you how proud I am of you, but it's hard for me to recognize that all of that means that you're growing up. And I know that you've proven yourself to your mum and me, and that you deserve your independence and the freedom to make your own choices, but sweetheart it's _hard_ to let go. As a parent. As a dad."

And the father sighed.

And then he was engulfed in a great big hug.

"I'll _always_ be your little girl," she said, her head buried in his shoulder. "And no stupid boys will ever change that."

He smiled, looked up, and saw his wife standing in the doorway, smiling.

"But I do like him Dad, and I'm going to continue seeing him."

He sighed, exaggerating his disappointment. "Well, it could be worse."

His wife raised and eyebrow.

"He could've been a Slytherin."


	4. The More Things Change

Title: The More Things Change  
Forum: QFLC - Ballycastle Bats (Beater 2)  
Challenge: Round 5 - Write about a character being treated, or treating someone, as a consolation prize.  
Prompts: (word) influence, (emotion) lust, (word) difference, (poem) 'Flower of Love' - Oscar Wilde, (object) toilet paper

Forum: HPFC  
Challenge: FRIENDS Challenge  
Prompt: Write about any fanon pairing (3.6)

World: Next-Gen  
Word Count: 1,659

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Rose had always assumed she'd have a marriage like her parents: one full of laughter, of love, of warmth. She'd dated casually all through Hogwarts, looking for that someone who would light a spark in her.

She found what she was looking for her seventh year, during which she shared a dormitory with Scorpius Malfoy. For most of Hogwarts, Rose had written Scorpius off as Albus's weird best friend—quiet and studious, but nice enough for a Slytherin. Seventh year though, brought two changes.

The first change was that Scorpius Malfoy, nerd-extraordinaire, got _hot_. He was what her mother called a 'late bloomer.' He shot up, filled out, and all of a sudden where there had once been a boy there was now all man. When McGonagall had the pair stand in the Great Hall at the Welcome Feast, introducing them as Head Boy and Girl, Rose had barely been able to take her eyes off the blond. They'd met later in their private common room to go over the month's patrol schedule, and she'd damn near fanned herself in his presence. She found herself waking earlier, just to get a glimpse of him emerging from their shared bathroom, his luxurious towel hanging low on his hips after his morning shower.

The second big change was that Albus started dating Slytherin beauty Mirabella Zabini, and all of a sudden his wingman had become a third wheel. Given Scorpius's shy nature, Albus had pleaded with Rose to tag along on Hogsmeade visits and study dates. The four of them would ostensibly spend time together, but once Rose had Scorpius sufficiently occupied, Albus and Mirabella would slip off for some alone time. Given the blond's growth spurt, Rose was more than happy to help her cousin, and her familial sense of obligation quickly led to a whirlwind romance, culminating in a summer wedding after graduation. And then they lived happily ever after.

Or at least, that was the story she had told herself.

But eleven years later, she could see now the world for what it truly was—and what it truly had been.

She had read Scorpius as horridly shy, but practically anyone was shy compared to the Weasleys; the truth was, Scorpius was unfailingly polite and not particularly effusive. He wasn't shy, he was distant.

She had thought Scorpius's little gifts were signs of infatuation; years later, as their eldest, Caelum, prepared to head to Hogwarts, she discovered the gifts of flowers and sweet notes were in fact part of regulated pure-blood courtship etiquette. She had swooned at the gestures; Scorpius had taken each one from a hundred-year-old book that he'd passed on to his eldest son.

Scorpius's handwritten love notes to her had been copied _verbatim_ from the book.

Rose had thought it was romantic to wait until after they were married to make love; she was thrilled when, after the wedding, Scorpius couldn't keep his hands off her. It was just like her parents—even after decades of marriage, her father still held her mother's waist and they still kissed each other affectionately. But after Altair, their second child, was born, Scorpius started emulating the way _his_ father acted toward Astoria—distant and indifferent. He'd even moved into a separate bedroom.

She'd tried talking to him calmly; she'd tried screaming; she'd tried crying. Only when she'd threatened divorce had he changed at all, sullenly returning to their room and touching her just enough to make it seem like he was making an effort. All the fire that had existed between their wedding day and Altair's birth had disappeared.

"It won't make any difference," said a voice from the doorway.

Rose was jilted out of her musings by her mother-in-law, who glided into Rose's dressing room and seated herself on a divan.

"What won't?" asked Rose, reaching for the nearest appropriate dress for that evening's Ministry fundraiser.

"Whatever you decide to wear. It won't make a bit of difference to Scorpius."

Rose bit her lip. Before she'd gotten lost in thought, she _had_ been trying to decide which dress might garner her husband's affection that evening.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," the auburn-haired witch said, taking the elegant black shift off the hanger and stepping into it. There was something about the way Astoria was speaking to her that made Rose feel laid bare, but it had little to do with the lace lingerie she was wearing.

Astoria raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow. "No? So that lingerie isn't for my son? And you weren't here trying to decide which dress would appeal to him the most?"

Rose's eyes widened slightly. Astoria knew something.

If Rose had been a Slytherin, she would have played the game: little verbal jabs that raised more questions than revealed information.

Rose wasn't a Slytherin.

"Astoria, if you have something to say, I'd appreciate honesty. You seem to be very aware of the issues in my marriage to your son, and I'm willing to take any advice you have to offer."

Astoria stood and moved in front of her daughter-in-law. She considered the woman, raking her eyes up and down. Even after two children, Rose still had a womanly figure. Years of society events as a Malfoy had honed her chic style, but this poor woman was still a Gryffindor—the daughter of Hermione Granger and a Weasley—and her heart still showed on her sleeve.

Pitying the girl—coddling the girl—would do her no favors.

"Take it from someone who's been in your shoes," said Astoria, coldly making her way to the door. "He won't ever give you what you want. He won't ever love you, not like you love him."

...

Rose sat on the toilet, crying. Her makeup, assiduously applied, had run; she'd have to clean her face and start anew. She dabbed her eyes with a wad of toilet paper, sniffling loudly.

"Rose? Rose, we're going to be late," Scorpius called from the bedroom. She heard him make his way to the bathroom; she saw his dragon hide dress shoes and black dress robes stand before her.

"What happened?" he asked. She heard concern in his voice. And when she looked up, she saw it in his eyes.

But not love. Not affection. The concern was… diplomatic. Courteous. Gentlemanly. She could've been a strange woman crying on a bench in Diagon Alley, and he would have looked at her just the same, because it was what a civilized, well-bred wizard would do for any witch.

"I'm sorry," she said, gathering herself. "I'm just having a moment. Give me five minutes, and I'll be ready."

...

Rose was grateful that Albus and Mirabella were at their table; if she had to sit through one more society function where Phoebe Goyle undressed Scorpius with her eyes across the table, she was going to _Avada_ the woman.

Rose listened to Mirabella describe her latest crusade—something about youth Quidditch leagues—but she watched her husband from the corner of her eye. Albus, who worked under Uncle Harry in the DMLE, had been assigned to a Occamy egg smuggling operation and had apparently gotten into a wand fight with a wizard he'd been tailing a few nights before.

She saw Scorpius's eyes go wide when Albus pulled aside his collar, showing off a fresh scar from a well-placed cutting curse. She saw the concern in his eyes.

And the love. And affection. This was not the polite response she'd received earlier that night; this was the fear and care and devotion she'd hoped—hoped with all her heart—that her husband would feel for her.

And then the look was gone, replaced with Scorpius's well-cultivated Slytherin mask, the trademark Malfoy smirk of his lips replacing the brief "o" that had revealed far more than Scorpius had wanted to.

Moments later, his eyes glanced to Rose. She met them, and he regarded her evenly.

She could not hide the grief in her own eyes, but he offered no apology.

And in that moment, she understood.

...

"How did you know?"

Astoria was rarely caught off guard, but she'd been so entranced watching her husband from across the room that her daughter-in-law had surprised her. She took the proffered glass of champagne and sipped. She did not respond.

"How did you know about Scorpius?" Rose questioned again.

The dark-haired witch sighed. What could she tell the young woman? That her sensitive boy was prone to poetics and that he'd not been quite Slytherin enough to adequately hide his pubescent musings on 'the bitter secret of his heart'? That she had found him crying in his room, later discovering the wadded parchment where Albus Potter confided to his best friend that he was in love with the beautiful Zabini girl? That she recognized the resigned look of duty in Scorpius's eyes as he stood at the altar on his wedding day, the relief that his firstborn was a boy, the horror when, at dinner one evening, Draco encouraged them to have another child.

Draco had looked similarly horrified when Lucius encouraged the same thing almost thirty years ago. Of course, he'd had enough of Lucius's influence during the war and had no desire to listen to his father's advice, so Astoria's bedside had remained cold.

She had figured out the problem long before Rose, but then again she was a Slytherin and prone to sussing out the subtlest of tells.

She stared across the room, where Draco was arguing with Harry Potter about some new DMLE initiative. Her lips curled into a wry smile as she watched the two men, a study in contrast, hiss snide insults and dramatically wave their hands in frustration.

Such fire. Such passion. All that unresolved, perhaps unrequited, tension, still brimming underneath the surface after more than forty years.

Astoria knocked back the rest of her champagne and looked at Rose, a sardonic smile on her lips.

"The more things change, the more things stay the same."


	5. An Honest Mistake

Title: An Honest Mistake  
Character/Pairing: Lucy Weasley, Harry Potter

Forum/Challenge: HPFC Friends Challenge  
Prompt: TO After 'I Do' (8.1) - Write about one of the next-gen children

Forum/Challenge: TGS Back to School (Mahoutokoro, House Mizu)  
Prompt: Traveling to the shops - Write about a character misusing the Floo system (10)  
Opt Prompt: (character) Lucy Weasley (5)

World: Next-gen  
Word Count: 747

"Come on, Molly!" hissed Lucy Weasley from the doorway. "If you're going to make me go to this stupid party, then don't lolligag. Mum and Dad could be home any minute!"

"Nah," said Molly as she leisurely strolled to her sister. She worked her wand between the fingers in her right hand with a practiced ease, and Lucy narrowed her eyes. "All the adults will be at the Burrow tonight. If Mum has two glasses of elf wine they might even crash there. Lord knows she can't handle her alcohol."

Lucy huffed. " _You_ may not care about getting caught, but I do! I can't believe I let you talk me into this anyway!"

Molly got within arms reach of her sister and ruffled the younger girl's straight red hair good-naturedly. "Chill out, small fry. Big sister will take the fall if we get caught." She paused. "But we won't."

Lucy sighed dramatically as she turned to follow Molly to the Floo. The older Weasley girl grinned mischievously at her sister. The flames of the fireplaces grew when Molly threw in the powder.

"Grimmauld Place!"

Lucy watched her sister disappear through the fireplace. She thought again about backing out—James was about 50/50 getting caught with his parties promised to be big enough to draw the attention of his many aunts and uncles—but she already got enough flack as it was. Not as much as Albus and his Slytherin boyfriend, but not far off.

She didn't fit in to her family, not really. Even Teddy—who was family in all but blood—seemed more Weasley than Lucy did. She wasn't popular like James and Dominique; she wasn't smart like Rose and Louis; she wasn't athletic like Roxanne and Lily. Her aunts and uncles called her Percy Two and laughed when she pursed her lips in frustration, much like her father had done years before. Even her parents joked about how much like her father she was.

Uncle Harry was the only one who didn't make fun of her. He never joked about her love for the rules or the fact that she found minutiae interesting or that she was proud of her ability to navigate red tape.

It was these thoughts that distracted her when she threw the Floo powder into the fireplace.

"Uncle Harr—OH SHIT!" she cried, as she was swept into the Floo system.

* * *

"Ron, you _have_ to get yourself under control," Harry admonished.

Ron Weasley, one third of the Golden Trio, was currently giggling into his hand. "I know Harry. I know. Give me just a second." And then the Senior Auror fell into a fit of giggles. "I just can't believe it. Little _Lucy_ cause all this trouble _?_ "

Harry sighed. "What I can't believe is that I'm here while Ginny is shutting down a party at Grimmauld. She's going to murder James, and then I'll have to arrest my wife."

Ron clapped his best friend on the back. "No worries, mate. You've got two more kids after him, and I'm sure Hermione will give her a pardon."

Harry looked at his friend, exasperated. "I don't think having the Prewett temper is a viable defense for murder."

"Well, look at the bright side," said Ron, adjusting his robes. " _You'll_ escape Azkaban. All you have to do is deal with Percy Two over there!" He took a few deep breaths and put on a serious face. "OK, I'm ready."

Harry shook his head. "No you're not. Go check on the Obliviation team. I'll talk with Lucy."

Harry made his way to the end of the hallway, where an Auror was standing next to Lucy. She was sitting, head in her hands, shoulders sagging. She looked up at Harry, tears and embarrassment in her eyes, and wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumper.

"Are you going to arrest me now, Uncle Harry?"

He smiled gently at the young witch. "No, Lucy. It sounds like this was the case of an honest mistake—an accident. You weren't Muggle-baiting."

"But I broke the rules."

Harry chuckled. "Yes, you did. But you didn't break the _law_. I imagine your parents will have their own punishment to met out—you can be sure James is getting an earful from your Aunt Ginny right now—but that doesn't mean I'm going to arrest you. I do have one question though."

She looked up, her eyes wide. "OK."

"How did you end up at Harrods?"


	6. Everything Changes

Title: Everything Changes  
Characters/Pairings: Rose Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Potter

Forum/Challenge: QLFC Round 10 (Beater 2, Ballycastle Bats)  
Prompt: Write about growing old on a winter day(s) OR youthfulness on a spring night(s).  
Opt-Prompts: (word) muffle, (color) yellow, (song) Castle on the Hill - Ed Sheeran

World: Next-Gen  
Word Count: 2,113

* * *

Rose had planned to forego that weekend's Hogsmeade trip to study for her OWLs, but when Bonnie Corner threw open the windows of their dorm room, letting in sunshine and a warm breeze, she decided a nice day out was exactly what she deserved. The two girls and Peony Jordan laughed as they traded sweaters and braided each other's hair.

"Is Scorpius taking you to Hogsmeade?" Bonnie asked, her hands deftly working through Rose's curls. Rose couldn't see her friend's face, but she could hear the smile in her voice.

"We're just friends, Bonnie. Dating Scorpius would be weird." She absently tugged on the sleeves of the yellow jumper she'd borrowed from Peony. The golden color was a nice contrast to her deep auburn hair, and not so bright that it washed out her pale, freckled skin or bright blue eyes.

"Why?" asked Peony, flouncing onto her bed. "He likes you."

Rose blushed. "He does not. You all just think that because the only boys you spend time with are boys that you date. And it'd be weird because… well, it's always been the three of us: Scorpius, Albus, and me. If Scorpius and I started dating it would change things."

Bonnie huffed, and Rose could almost feel the girl roll her eyes. "Weren't your parents best friends before they dated? And wasn't Professor Potter their _other_ best friend?"

Rose shrugged. "That's different."

"How?" asked Peony.

"It just is," Rose muttered.

* * *

She found her best friends in the courtyard, laughing with Julius Flint. Albus lit up when he saw her and waved her over.

"Rosie! You decided to come!"

Scorpius and Julius turned, and Rose pushed down the butterflies in her stomach. The boys had taken to wearing their hair long-her mother had muttered something about cyclical fashion trends when Hugo had adamantly refused to have his shaggy curls cut at Christmas-and Scorpius's white-blond hair hung just past his chin. Albus' was so long he'd taken to wearing it in a low ponytail, much to the consternation of Nana Weasley.

"It's too nice to be cooped up with Arithmancy today," Rose said brightly. "Is it OK if it tag along with you lot?" She raised an eyebrow at Julius, who chuckled.

"Don't mind me, Weasley, I'm just chatting with these blokes until my date arrives." Julius looked past her and grinned, and Rosie followed his gaze to find her cousin Lucy blushing at the Slytherin beater. "And there she is. Excuse me, lads."

Albus and Rose exchanged quick glances of surprise. Lucy had not dated much; she was quiet, like Aunt Audrey, and a bit of a stickler for rules, like Uncle Percy. Julius, however, reminded Rose of Albus's older brother, and had the two boys been sorted into the same house she was sure they would have been fast friends.

As it was, Julius Flint and James Sirius Potter were single-handedly responsible for keeping the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry alive and well. Albus had been forced to play peacemaker more than once, and he was already looking apprehensive about how close Julius and Lucy were walking.

The dark-haired wizard frowned. "C'mon, let's go."

Scorpius and Rose fell in behind Albus, who was trying-in vain-to pretend like he wasn't watching the older couple like a hawk.

"His interest isn't idle," said Scorpius softly.

"I didn't know they knew each other," Rose admitted.

"She's been tutoring him in Charms all year, for NEWTs. He didn't want anyone to know he needed a tutor. He told me a few weeks ago, after he asked about your family."

Rose turned and raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged.

"I think he was worried James would curse him if he asked her out."

"He probably will," muttered Rose. "Albus might too, if he toys with her."

"I can't imagine anyone being stupid enough to toy with a Weasley or a Potter." Scorpius smiled broadly and raised his arms out. "Merlin, I've missed the sunshine." He closed his eyes and breathed deep. "I've missed fresh air."

"I think we've all been ready for a change," said Rose, smiling at the bright spring day that awaited them.

* * *

They made their usual circuit: Spintwitches, where they all drooled over the latest Nimbus; Honeydukes, to stock up on Ice Mice and Licorice Wands; Tomes and Scrolls, where Albus hung out near the magazines while Rose and Scorpius scoured through the 'Just In' section; and, finally, the Hog's Head for a butterbeer and chips.

"The Hog's Head is supposed to be quieter," Albus had protested their third year, when Rose balked at going anywhere but the Three Broomsticks. "Most Slytherins prefer Aberforth's place, so you're outvoted here cousin."

She'd come to love the dingy intimacy of the Hog's Head. In the winters, the darkness and warmth of the low firelight was comforting, like a large, well loved blanket or fuzzy pair of socks. She loved sitting in their corner booth, watching their classmates walk about in hats and mittens and scarves while she curled her body around a warm mug of cider.

Today, however, the Hog's Head felt oppressive. She wanted to be in the sunlight. She wanted to feel the spring breeze on her face. She wanted to smell the earth, alive and right on the cusp of full bloom.

"I can't stay in here," said Rose, after she finished her butterbeer. "It's too nice of a day to be cooped up. Let's head out now and take the long way back to the castle."

Albus and Scorpius nodded. They were creatures of habit, rarely changing their routine, but today seemed to beg for something different.

* * *

Rose knew she was young, but she had learned to enjoy her youth. She had heard stories about how quickly her parents had to grow up-by the time they were Rose's age, they'd fought a troll, been petrified, and survived a werewolf attack. Her parents had always used these stories as a warning: don't grow up too fast, because you'll wake up one morning and your childhood will be a thing of the past.

So, with her parents' advice in mind, she had spent her years at Hogwarts learning and making friends and playing Quidditch and generally enjoying her youth. As she watched the castle from across the lake, sitting on the grass while the boys skipped rocks in the lake, she admitted that her childhood had been a happy one, with nary a troll or rampant werewolf in sight.

But she was starting to feel different. She wondered if it was her impending OWLs and the subsequent pressure about deciding her future. She thought about the way her friends had changed this year: physically more mature, but also making noises about people they knew settling down and getting married; Bonnie had started assessing potential boyfriends not only on their 'hotness' but whether or not they'd be good husbands or fathers. Teddy and Victoire had married three years ago, and both Roxanne and Molly were engaged.

It was too much for Rose, who just wanted to spend her days flying with her boys and worrying about exams. But then she'd catch Scorpius's eye and he'd smile at her and she'd have to fight the blush threatening to rise on her cheeks.

She'd have to stop herself from wondering what kind of man he'd become in a few years.

"Oi!" cried Albus, and Rose startled out of her thoughts. She followed his glare to see Julius and Lucy mid-embrace, his hands cupping her rear and hers thrown around his neck. The older couple was oblivious to the younger trio who had also taken the 'scenic route' back to school.

"Albus," Scorpius said softly. "It's not your business."

"The hell it isn't, that's my cousin!" Albus marched off toward the couple, wand in hand.

The blond wizard sighed, ran his finger through his hair, and rolled his eyes. "Tosser," he muttered, dropping to sit next to Rose. He leaned his head on her shoulder. "Julius is going to hex him silly."

"Not if Lucy doesn't hex him first," said Rose primly. "The boys are all known for their tempers, but Mum and Aunt Ginny made sure we girls knew all the best hexes. We're just better at not getting caught."

"Remind me never to piss you off," said Scorpius. Rose threw her arm around his shoulders and twirled a strand of his hair in her fingers.

"Don't piss me off," she said blithely.

He chuckled. The castle stretched in front of them. The sun was starting its slow descent, and the turrets were bathed in soft oranges and pinks and yellows. They could hear the muffled cries of Albus, who was likely being hexed, admonished, or both by Lucy.

A few minutes later, Lucy huffed her way over to the pair. "Julius is taking Albus to the infirmary. I just wanted to let you know."

Rose narrowed her eyes. "What did you do to him, Luce?"

The older Weasley girl flipped her hair and pursed her lips. "He'll be vomiting slugs for a few hours, which is a step up from the nasty remarks coming out of his mouth before I hexed him." She frowned. "Do either of _you_ have anything to say about my date to Hogsmeade?"

Rose and Scorpius looked at each other and shrugged. Rose turned and smiled at her cousin. "Did you have a nice time?"

Lucy's face registered shock, followed by a soft smile. "Very much so. Thank you for asking."

Rose nodded. "Good."

"Julius is a good bloke," said Scorpius. "He likes you a lot, Weasley. I know he's had a bit of a reputation in the past, but people change."

The older girl blushed. "Well. Yes. Um… OK. I'm going to head to the castle. You two should come in soon."

The pair nodded. "We will."

* * *

They had meant to go in shortly after Lucy left them, but they were teenagers and longtime friends who had been cooped up in a drafty castle for months. They sat by the lake talking about nothing and everything and watching the sun slowly fade and the soft purples turn to blues and turn to darker blues.

It was early evening, and the pair still hadn't moved from their spot by the lake. The warmth of the day never faded, and though the sunshine was gone Rose continued to bask in the feel of the spring breeze.

"I can't believe fifth year is almost over," mused Rose. "Only two more years left."

"Hmph," groused Scorpius. "Can't we stay just young forever?"

Rose laughed. "I don't know that I'd want to be a teenager _forever_."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I'd like a family one day. To be a mum. To do some good in the world. Maybe after I play for the Harpies for a bit. Change is scary, but it's also exciting, isn't it?" She grinned, and he tugged on a curl that had fallen from her braid. "It just feels like that future is so much closer than it used to be."

Scorpius nodded. "Bloody OWLs." A few minutes passed. The castle loomed in front of them. It was a comforting, familiar sight, a place they knew intimately and in which they felt at home. It was also an overwhelming reminder of their insignificance. Hogwarts had been there long before they'd been alive, and it would continue on long after they died.

"We've missed dinner," said Scorpius. He laid back and threw out his arms, staring up at the stars.

Rose laid next to him, closer than she ever had but not as close as she wanted to be. Close enough for intimate friends, but not dating close.

She wondered if he could feel her heart beat.

"We can sneak into the kitchens before curfew," she said. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, and she couldn't suppress her smile when his arm snaked around her shoulders and his hand came to rest at the bottom of her ribcage. His fingers laid tentatively there, not moving but not _not_ moving.

Every touch between them, every movement, was tentative, burgeoning with unasked and unanswered questions.

"Let's just stay here a little longer," Rose whispered. And then, because she was the Gryffindor of the group, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed. Their laced fingers came to rest on her stomach and, though they did not look at each other, she felt the world shift around them.

It could have been nothing-two friends lying together and watching the stars on a warm spring night. But Rose could feel the difference.

In the soft touches, in the silence, something had changed.


End file.
